"Most of the time I don't know what to ask for." I look at her and her bottom lip quivers. "And when I do, I don't know how to.
"I guess it's hard to ask for something I already have."
She nods in agreement, snow falling of her hair, and I collapse back into the cold white, watching the flakes pile up slowly.
"If you don't know what to ask for," she starts again, staring up into the same clouded sky. "Why don't you just ask about?"
"Anything. The sky, the ground, the reasoning, the logic, the people. Ask about me, I'll tell you all I know."
I thought for a minute, the silence filled in with the reassuring sounds of soft wind. "What... are you?" She kept quiet. I tried again.
"Who are you?" With that question, she turned, a childish grin on her face.
"You already know. I think you mean to ask who am I to you."
Silence fills my ears again, warm despite the cold walls around me. Too thick to make snow angels now, probably.
"Who am I?"
Her grin turns to a small smile